


Like Minds Pt 1

by AmandaHuffleduck



Series: Like Minds [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Gangsters, Implied/Referenced Torture, Infidelity, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Snupin Santa Fest, Weasley Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:12:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmandaHuffleduck/pseuds/AmandaHuffleduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Snupin Santa (SnuSa) 2007 on the Lupin/Snape_Lurve_Community.</p>
<p>Rudika requested: <i>FIC non-magical AU. Remus and Severus are rival mafia bosses. Go wild and do anything you want with this! smut required.</i></p>
<p>To which I responded: <i>I've fiddled with the prompt, to whit (to whoo! [snerk])... when you said <b>mafia</b>, I assume you meant American, but I know sod-all about that culture whereas I have an unhealthy interest in the British underworld. Sooo, our bad lads are still Brits... </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Remus sat on the hard pew, his hands clasped loosely in his lap as he contemplated the image hanging behind the altar.

St Dominic's had been built in the late '40's – or re-built, rather, after the original church had been destroyed in the Blitz – and hadn't been redecorated since. This _Christ on the Cross_ was rendered in good old-fashioned plaster, smooth and ethereal; painted eyes cast heavenwards in the passion of agony; implausibly scarlet blood eternally dripping from vivid wounds…

Remus approved. He'd hated the modernising in the 70's when plastic, and the Arts and Craft movement, had infiltrated the sacred space, replacing the fusty, perhaps, but to his mind, timeless objects of worship with things that looked like they'd been hacked out of old packing crates. His own parish church had gone so far as to substitute a huge, plain red crucifix for its quaint, turn-of-the-century statue. Transparent red plastic at that, lit from beneath by electric light. 

Remus shuddered at the memory of the kitschy abomination then gazed fondly at the statue of the virgin to the right of the altar. Mary, with her sweet face and blue robes, and to the left, patient, put-upon Joseph, graciously supporting a child that had nothing to do with him.

Remus felt calm here, the hushed atmosphere and familiar icons were soothing. The church had played an important part in his life growing up. It'd been a comfort to his widowed mother, adequately educating her only child for free while providing her with enough employment as a cleaning woman to prevent starvation. When cancer had almost done with her lungs the church kindly found a bed for her in a charitable hospice, and finally, it'd buried her at no cost to her grieving, impoverished son…

 

Remus caught movement out of the corner of his eye and forced himself not to look at the man taking a seat beside him.

"Why we can't meet somewhere with padded seats. C of E, perhaps…" his companion grumbled quietly, long fingers smoothing down the creases in his black wool suit.

"Not my fault you've got a bony arse." Remus murmured with a smile.

"Can you say 'arse' in church, Lupin? I thought that sort of thing was proscribed." 

"God makes allowances for human weakness." Remus intoned with mock piety. He did glance at Snape then, catching the man's amused half-smile, which abruptly vanished into a scowl as he said one word:

"Dolohov."

Remus groaned.

"Oh, Christ, isn't he dead yet? What's the fucker done now?"

Snape's eyebrows jerked at the language but he continued on in a tone pitched to carry no further than the two of them.

"People smuggling. He's bringing them in through various places, Ireland, Liverpool, South West coast."

"I assume those that survive find themselves indentured to him?" Prostitution, most likely, but Christ knew what else. "Poor bastards." Remus breathed. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since the beginning of the year. It's a new venture."

"Extremely lucrative, I'll bet." Remus growled, loathing the Russian crime lord with a passion that surprised him. You can only sell drugs the once, but a person – man, woman, child, it didn't matter – could be sold again and again and again.

Snape lifted a shoulder.

"He's got to rebuild somehow."

" _Shit, shit, shit_." Remus swore softly. "Can we expect trouble?"

"Almost certainly. Unless he's cut off early." Snape said with heavy significance. He lowered his voice still further. "I assume you'll drop that name where it'll do the most good?"

Remus said nothing. Snape's casual statement needled him but he couldn't even take refuge in stating he wasn't a grass, because that's precisely what he was. The information that had brought Tom Riddle down had come from him. If the remnants of Riddle's old-guard discovered that – Dolohov included - there'd be hell to pay. Mind you, if they found out the source of _his_ information…

He smirked a sidelong glance.

"Dora says thank you for the cruet set, by the way."

Remus'd not been sure what to make of the pair of rotund, dopey, daisy-chewing cow-shaped salt and pepper shakers. They'd stood out like dog's balls amongst the more traditional – and classier – wedding gifts of crystal and silver. Was Snape trying to tell him something? He'd decided at last he was being paranoid, that it was just his… associate's warped sense of humour. Besides, Dora had laughed when she saw them, declaring them the most original of their presents. The cows now had pride of place on the kitchen window sill.

"My pleasure. I'm sorry I couldn't deliver them in person."

He wasn't, and Remus knew it, but this civility was all part of the game they played.

There was more movement further down the pew and Remus looked up to see a slender, palely blond young man edging awkwardly towards them. Malfoy junior was not a regular church goer then – Remus thought to himself with amusement - if he couldn't navigate the pews.

"Sir?" Malfoy addressed Snape in a whisper. "There's a phone call…"

Snape nodded then turned slightly towards Remus.

"Lovely as always to catch up, Lupin." If he was any less sincere it would've been insulting. As it was Remus merely twitched the corners of his lips up in to the bare bones of a smile.

"Indeed..."

He very carefully didn't watch Snape as he left. He'd been caught – once – ogling his rival's arse. Never again. In any case, he was married now and the time for youthful impulses was long past.

"Boss?"

Remus acknowledged his driver's presence with a slight nod.

"Time to go, is it? Very good."

Charlie quickly moved aside, making room for his employer step into the church's central aisle. Remus genuflected towards the altar, hiding a smile when the red head automatically did the same. A good Catholic boy, was Charlie, though their shared religious leanings wasn't the main reason he was on staff.

Remus glanced at his watch as he strode out in to the weak sunlight: plenty of time before his next appointment, which meant Charlie wouldn't have to drive like the hounds of hell were after him. A shame really, his driver took such obvious delight in piloting the car like he was navigating Le Mans…

 

 

"Remus!" Harry was laughing as he hugged the older man. "It's good to see you!"

"And you. How've you been?"

"Fine. Busy." Detective Constable Potter grinned. "Up to my ears in the scum of the earth. Hungry? I haven't ordered yet…"

The talk was sparse as they ate, both too intent on their food. Remus had always liked this pub; he used to eat – and drink - here with Harry's father, way back when he was a cleaner at James' college. 

"Oi!" Harry had filched Remus' crusty roll to soak up the remains of his gravy. "I was looking forward to that!"

"Nah, better you don't eat it." Harry glanced meaningfully at his companion's midriff.

"Bloody cheek." Remus grumbled, while not entirely repressing a smile. "Been nagged at most of my life for being 'too thin', and now that I'm finally getting some meat on my bones a disrespectful brat's insinuating I need to watch my weight?"

Harry's grin was unrepentant as he made a show of savouring his purloined roll.

"So, married life's agreeing with you then?" he asked.

"It is."

"You sound surprised." Harry's eyebrow quirked.

"Do I? I suppose I am." Remus half-smiled. "Considering I thought of myself as a confirmed bachelor."

"Ah, love. Or something." The younger man smirked and Remus shot him a warning glance, which he ignored. "Dora was very persistent. Must've been _some_ good reason she was panting after someone twice her age."

"Twice her age, four times her income." Remus was rueful. "What?" Harry was giving him one of those odd little smiles.

"You've never been able to admit that you're attractive."

"Harry…" They were skirting close to an uncomfortable subject, one he'd had cause to warn the boy off more than once.

"Yes, yes, I know." Harry sipped his lager so he wouldn't have to meet Remus' eyes. There was an awkward silence.

"How's work?" Remus ventured to change the subject.

"Busy." It was Harry's turn to be rueful. "Keeping up my reputation of Met _wunderkind_ is exhausting."

"Well, if you will single-handedly bring down a criminal empire only months out of Hendon…"

"It wasn't quite single-handedly though, was it?" Harry shot him an amused and mildly exasperated look.

Remus waved it off. "Ah, you'll be a DCI before you know it -"

" - And then the fun will really start!" they intoned together, then laughed.

With their rapport salvaged the two men conversed lightly and generally until Harry had to go back to work. He finished his drink and stood up from the table.

"I'll see you soon, Remus, yeah?"

"Yep. Take care. Oh, before I forget…" Remus began as casually as he could. "Anton Dolohov."

Harry frowned, searching his memory.

"Dolohov? Wasn't he…?"

"Yes." Remus said quietly. "Word is he's active again here. Might be something to look in to."

"Any details?" Harry asked, just as quietly, all seriousness now.

"People smuggling."

"Jesus, that's all we need." The young man muttered.

"Just… be careful." Remus said, gripping Harry's forearm for emphasis.

"Yes, unca Remus, I'll be careful." The playful cheekiness was back in his friend's voice, twinkling in his green eyes. Remus grinned lopsidedly.

"Like talking to a brick wall."

Harry smirked.

"As bad as my father, yes, I know. Have to go." He squeezed Remus' shoulder. "I'll see you soon."

 

 

With the intention of catching up on some work before going home, Remus had Charlie drive him back to his office above the 'Gentleman's club' that was the centre of his operations. Not that he'd ended up doing any actual work anyway, brooding as he was on Snape's news, amongst other things.

There were times when he felt he walked too fine a line with Harry, professionally and personally. He'd known the boy since he was a baby and aside from a two year stretch in prison he'd always been there, good old Uncle Remus, a regular part of Harry's life. With James' death a few years ago there'd been a shift in their relationship, a maturing, a realigning, to the point now where Remus tended to cringe a little when Harry even jokingly called him 'uncle'. _Uncles_ were not supposed to find their 'nephews' beddable, and _nephews_ were not supposed to encourage those impure thoughts with sly innuendos, or outright flirting. At least the boy had finally learnt some subtlety – Harry's fifteenth to seventeenth years had been a trial for someone striving to be a good role model for an impressionable youth.

That was the personal - the professional was simultaneously trickier yet more straight forward.

"But you're not really a villain…" 

Was Harry's counter-argument when Remus had tried discussing the possible ramifications of Harry's following his dad in to the Metropolitan Police Service. Well, actually, yes Remus was a villain, a card-carrying, knuckle-dusting hard man who – being smarter than your average crook – had learnt caution from being banged up at Her Majesty's pleasure. True, he'd never killed any one, or had any one killed for that matter, but he was still a 'person of interest' to the plods even if there was nothing _illegal_ that could be traced directly back to him any more. 

Harry had blithely ignored Remus' criminal record and alleged criminal contacts, and had scoffed at his suggestion that the Met would try to use their relationship as leverage for information on England's underworld. That their relationship _had_ been instrumental in the downfall of one of the most notorious crime lords of recent times was just a little bit galling for Remus, but then passing the information to Harry had undoubtedly been the most expedient solution to a dangerous situation. Tom Riddle had become increasingly unstable over the years and it'd been in everyone's best interest to put the fucker down before things got irretrievably bloody.

It was a safe bet Harry's superiors had a good idea of the source of the intelligence, not that they could prove it, but what they didn't know – what Harry didn't know – was that Remus and Snape had secretly conferred on the matter. It'd started when Riddle had beaten one of his own people to death in a fit of pique. Remus had heard about the killing, hell, everyone had, but being contacted directly by Riddle's lieutenant had been a surprise. Even more surprising was seeing the normally aloof and controlled man visibly shaken.

"He's insane." Snape had whispered hoarsely. "Delusional. He seriously thinks he's untouchable." Remus had murmured something non-committal in reply and Snape had rounded on him. "Don't you _understand_? If it continues, if he starts picking fights there'll be a blood bath that not even the Met will be able to ignore."

That had given Remus pause. The police were all for the criminal underclass killing each other off – as long as there were no civilian casualties – but there was a limit to what they could neglect to investigate too deeply without being called out on it publicly.

"And you're worried about your own skin." Remus said.

" _Yes_." Snape had given him a scathing look that implied he was a moron for thinking otherwise. "There's not much frightens me any more, but Tom…" He shook his head.

"So what do you want me to do?"

Snape had paused, and Remus sensed the man's struggle.

"I have… information." He said at last, reluctantly. "You have contacts in the Met…" He gazed squarely at Remus, eyebrows raised, waiting for him to make the connection. Which Remus had, naturally, but it'd made him angry and defensive.

"I don't 'have contacts'." He'd snapped and Snape gave him another of those patronising looks.

"James Potter's son." He prompted acidly. "Carrying on the noble work of his father."

Remus bared his teeth.

"I have _never_ used my friendship with Harry's family – " Snape's mocking laugh had stopped him in his tracks.

"You really are one of the old breed, aren't you, Lupin?" He'd narrowed his eyes, all trace of weakness gone. "Use your head. Riddle must be eliminated. This is the quickest route."

Dammit, it made sense, but the prospect was so risky.

"What do I get if I play go-between?"

"Guaranteed non-interference from me in your affairs."

"From you...?" Remus frowned – then the penny dropped. Snape could only profit from his boss' demise; someone would have to take control of the resulting chaos. "Guaranteed non-interference?"

"Up to a point." Snape ignored Remus' snort. "Naturally if you encroach on my territory I'll have to respond."

"Oh, naturally. But for the most part you'll leave me alone?" Remus pressed. 

This was an important point. Though Riddle currently controlled most of London, and a good chunk of the South, he'd been trying to expand into Essex – Remus' hard won and carefully maintained patch. Remus himself had no plans for world domination, he was quite content with what he had.

"Assuming I'm in a position to disregard you, then yes."

"I'll think about it."

Snape scowled.

"Don't dawdle, the situation is deteriorating daily."

 

He had thought about it, long and hard.

He'd known Snape for years – ironically through James as one of his friend's university classmates - but had no reason to trust him. The man was a pharmaceutical genius who'd worked his way up through Riddle's hierarchy until he stood as close to the bastard as anyone. Remus knew Snape was ruthless but had no true idea of his ambition until their confidential chat. Could he trust him to not cast covetous eyes on his territory once he had the power of Riddle's empire behind him? There was no logical reason to think so but Remus was following a hunch, an instinct. 

They were both level-headed human beings, it was possible they could work together for mutual benefit without the clash of egos that had scuppered countless other alliances. That Snape's austerity appeared to tweak some long-suppressed part of his libido was incidental to Remus' final decision to cooperate. Of course it was…

Between them they'd engineered the termination of Tom Riddle's career. 

The police, via Harry, were tipped off to Riddle's location and the fact that he was armed. Riddle was tipped off that the police were coming with orders to take him out at any cost. Whether this was actually true or not was immaterial as the sight of SO19 - the Met's Armed Response Unit - was enough to tip Riddle over the edge of _defensive_ to _homicidal_. 

The stand-off had been short lived. Feeling himself to be cornered, the old crime boss had opened up on the police, getting himself blasted to ribbons for his trouble. Once he was down the police had quickly moved to scoop up personnel, assets, and evidence enough to bolster their claim of justifiable violence. 

Twenty-four hours after Riddle had been zipped up in a body bag his organisation was in tatters. Snape had stepped in to seize the reins; in the aftermath of confusion and panic, the remnants of Riddle's people were mostly happy to fall in behind someone familiar who seemed to know what they were doing. Any complaints were dealt with quickly and severely, and before long Snape had established himself as Riddle's successor. There wasn't a lot left for him to work with but it served satisfactorily as the foundation for his own firm.

Harry, for his part in the operation, was recommended for CID. The young constable had accepted with alacrity and was now making a name for himself in the plain-clothes division. Snape, as promised, had left Remus alone. They continued to meet discreetly, as much to keep an eye on the other – Remus suspected – as to exchange information. They'd developed a wary respect for each other but they certainly couldn't be called friends, and if, after their meetings, Remus occasionally found himself hard at the thought of Snape's mouth on his cock, well, that was just a harmless fantasy. It wasn't going to get in the way of business… 

 

The past couple of years since Riddle's demise had been relatively peaceful and prosperous – Remus scowled - and now Dolohov had popped up to put the cat amongst the pigeons. The Russian had been one of Riddle's close associates but had scarpered at the first sign of trouble; couldn't really blame him for that, but his reappearance was bloody inconvenient. What did he want? Was it just about carving a niche for himself in the UK? That would be bad enough! The incursion of foreign criminals never did anyone any good, they had no respect for _the way things were done_ in this country.

Remus shook himself out of his introspection and checked the time, realising with a start he'd been sitting at his desk staring at nothing for a couple of hours. No profit in brooding though, neither he nor Snape could do anything about Dolohov yet. They'd just have to watch, and wait for the cunt to make a move. 

 

 

They didn't have long to wait. A bare week after his meeting with Snape, Remus was confronted in his office by a panicky Malfoy. Charlie, scowling, hovered at the blond's shoulder. He'd been all set to chuck Malfoy off the premises but his boss had seen the commotion on the security camera and ordered Charlie bring the boy upstairs.

"He's got him!" Malfoy blurted. He was shaking so hard his teeth were rattling in his head.

"Who's got who?" Remus asked, outwardly calm but with a growing sense of unease. He flicked a glance at Charlie, indicating the drinks cabinet. The red-head's freckled brow furrowed in a clear expression of doubt but he did as asked and poured their visitor a shot of whisky.

"The Russian. Dolohov. He's got Sev – Mr. Snape. Took him right off the street!" Malfoy accepted the glass with thoughtless arrogance; not a word or glance of thanks. Charlie's scowl deepened. 

"And?" Remus leant back in his chair, forcing himself to project a disinterest he certainly didn't feel. _Shit shit shit_.

"Y…you have to do something!"

"Why?"

"Because…" Malfoy shot a furtive almost-look at Charlie, then lowered his voice. "… Snape doesn't trust anyone, but he trusts you."

Remus made a non-committal noise but his thoughts were turbulent. Dolohov had Snape - Snape might talk. And if Snape talked then he, Remus, was fucked…

"Do you know where they are now?"

Malfoy nodded eagerly.

"I followed them. They hadn't seen me, so I nicked a car and followed them."

Charlie's russet eyebrows rose and Remus almost smiled at his driver's obvious skepticism. Given other circumstances - and that he'd never known Snape to carry dead wood in his organisation - he wouldn't have believed the little ponce capable of something so common. Nicking a car? What would mummy say?

"Why not use a car of your own?" Charlie rumbled. Malfoy gave him another almost-look and curled his lip into a sneer.

"I was being cautious. If the Russians knew enough about us to choose that particular spot to snatch Sna – Mr Snape, then they might recognise one of our vehicles." He shrugged. "Besides, there was one _right there_. Much quicker to just take it and go."

Remus rubbed his hand over his mouth, considering.

"Where is he now?"

Malfoy, his relief palpable, gave him an address in one of the gentrified suburbs of London. He'd had the forethought to write it down, reading from a small, expensive looking, leather-bound notebook. Remus wondered if this wasn't a set-up.

"How do we know you're not dicking us around?" _Thank you, Charlie_.

"You think I'm leading you into an ambush?" Malfoy snapped at the redhead. "You think I'd bother to come _here_ – " his tone more than adequately expressed his distaste. " – if there was no reason? You're bloody insane, Weasley."

"Enough." Remus' sharp word forestalled any escalation. "You must understand, Mr Malfoy, we have no reason to trust you, any more than you'd trust one of us if we came to you with a similar story."

"I understand, and I'm not 'dicking you around'." Malfoy's fists were clenched but his voice was even. "Snape's been with Dolohov for almost two hours. Please, if you're going to help can you do it now?"

Remus held the blond's gaze for a few seconds longer than nodded at Charlie.

"Seamus and Zach can follow in another car." He looked again at Malfoy. "You'll be coming with me." The young man nodded tightly. "Where did you park your motor?"

"Two blocks West." Perhaps guessing Remus' intent he rattled off the make and colour without prompting.

Remus glanced at Charlie.

"Get Bill to dump it across town. We'll see you downstairs in five."

Charlie nodded and strode out of the office. Remus pinned the younger Malfoy with a look.

"If I find you've not been honest with me there won't be that much left for your mother to bury. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal. Sir." The blond's resentment was vying with a genuine fear, though whether that was for himself or his boss Remus wasn't entirely sure…

 

They did a leisurely drive-by of the address - one of a string of neatly restored terraces. Remus looked around as casually as he could: nice suburb, orderly gardens, Neighbourhood Watch. Anomalies would, probably, be noted, though it was coming on for night now, the residents safely ensconced with their dinners and telly, so perhaps not.

The house was dark, no light leaking out from behind the heavy curtains. That didn't mean to say there was no-one home, however.

"Drop us at the back lane, Charlie, then stay close. Tell Seamus to keep an eye out at the front." Remus opened the glove compartment and pulled out a handful of latex gloves. He handed a pair to Malfoy. "Try not to leave any physical evidence. Did you notice any alarms systems earlier?"

"Nothing obvious."

"No matter. We don't have time to do a proper recon, just be ready to leg it if necessary."

 

The rear gate opened with only a slight creak, and no external lights sprang on as they moved across the tiny yard. Likewise, no alarms sounded when Remus picked the lock on the back door and swung it open.

The interior was shadowy and silent, made sinister with the unmistakable tang of blood floating beneath the odour of sloppy house-keeping.

" _Shit_." Malfoy whispered, anxiety pushing his voice in to a higher register.

"Check carefully." Remus murmured, stepping inside. He pulled the door to but didn't shut it completely. "Use the torch, aimed low, don't switch on any lights."

They moved quickly through the house, Malfoy becoming more twitchy and agitated with each empty room. It was a pig-sty; food scraps and rubbish all over the place, mingled indeterminably with clothes. Male and female clothes, Remus observed dispassionately. Well-made and expensive for Sir, and for Madame…? _Prostitute chic_ : was that a valid fashion tag? Either Dolohov had appalling taste as a cross-dresser or he kept some of his 'employees' here…

 

They found Snape in the upstairs bath: shoeless and shirtless, hands bound behind his back with electrical tape. Malfoy bit back an oath and at first glance Remus was afraid they were too late. In the uncertain light of their torches he was abnormally pale, his mouth hanging slack and there was no apparent movement of his blood-streaked chest. Malfoy yelped as his torchlight brushed over Snape's eyes and the man twitched.

Immediately, Remus was on his knees beside the bath.

"Snape? Can you hear me?" He let out a breath as Snape jerked his head. "Easy now." Remus spoke softly. "Can you move?"

"… _try._ "

"Good. I'll help you up. Ready?" Remus turned to Malfoy. "Can you remember what he was wearing? Find his clothes… What?" The blond was staring in to the sink.

"… Fingers." He croaked.

"What?"

"There's… there's fingers in the sink."

Swearing silently Remus quickly, and as gently as he could, examined Snape's bound hands.

"Oh, Christ…" He swallowed back nausea. "Wrap them in something, Malfoy, then find his clothes."

"Me?" Malfoy sounded absurdly young.

"Yes, you! Who the fuck else?" Remus snarled. "Rinse out the sink and the bath before we go."

"…Why?"

"Because the cops are going to be here sooner or later – " he'd already decided to pass on this address at least to Harry. " – and we don't want them finding evidence of your boss, got it?" Small hope of that, forensic technology being what it was, but they could at least make the attempt.

Malfoy nodded mechanically then set about his tasks with obvious reluctance. Remus gingerly manoeuvred an almost unconscious Snape to sit on the edge of the bath, holding him steady with a hand on his shoulder. Snape's head hung forward, matted black hair limp around his face. His breathing sounded laboured and wheezy, his skin was clammy. _Shock_. Remus snagged a towel from the metal rack on the wall and slung it around Snape's bony shoulders.

"I'm going to free your hands." He said, fumbling in a pocket for his penknife. "And then we're going to go."

Snape moaned as the tape was cut away and belatedly Remus realised that removing the constriction might start the wounds bleeding again. He hastily grabbed an additional towel from the floor, just in case. It was too dark to see clearly – thank god – but he spread the second towel over Snape's lap before carefully bringing the man's arms to his front. Injuries aside, Remus knew how excruciating it was to move a limb when it'd been held in one position for a long time. He wrapped the edges of the towel loosely over Snape's hands.

Malfoy returned with a bundle of clothes and a plastic bag. He slipped the bag over his hand and Remus could hear him retching as he tried to pick up the severed digits without actually touching them.

"I'll get him downstairs; you clean the bath. _Quickly_."

"Yes, _master_." Malfoy sniped, not-quite under his breath. Remus let that go, this time. Handling body parts never made for a sunny disposition, he'd found.

A hurried call to Charlie and the car was waiting in the laneway at the back of the property. Leaving the lights off and the engine running, Charlie helped his boss slide their injured passenger in to the back seat. By the time Malfoy came barreling out of the house Remus had settled himself beside Snape, the man's head in his lap, the better to stop him sliding about as they drove, Remus told himself.

Charlie resumed his position in the driver's seat as Malfoy, after a long, frowning look at Remus, climbed in to the front.

"Seamus is calling the doc." Charlie said, piloting the car down the narrow lane.

"Good. Go straight there." Remus brushed a lock of hair away from Snape's cheek, or tried to, as it was stuck fast to the sallow skin with dried blood. He scowled silently: Dolohov had no idea the trouble he was in.

 

Remus had known Doctor Roberts for over a decade. The medico was a consummate professional, talented, unflappable, and discreet. The service he extended to Remus and his employees – frequently after normal business hours – in no way overlapped his regular practice.

"Mr Lupin?"

Remus set aside the fishing magazine he wasn't really reading and stood up. Across the room Malfoy stopped pacing and waited, poised on the balls of his feet.

"How is he?"

"Stable. He hadn't lost that much blood but the effects of shock could have been serious if left much longer. I'm ready to transfer him to the clinic for surgery."

Remus let himself relax fractionally.

"I'll cover all expenses."

"Very good." Roberts frowned. "He's refusing any pain medication, however. And he'd like to see you." He raised a hand as Malfoy stepped forward. "Just Mr Lupin, I'm afraid."

_That_ did not please the aristocratic blond and he retreated to the furthest corner of the room and flung himself into a chair.

"If you could come this way, Mr Lupin?" Roberts held open the door for him. They stepped through from the understatedly elegant waiting room in to a blandly sterile corridor.

"What about his fingers?" Remus murmured once they were out of earshot of Malfoy.

Roberts sighed and vigorously scrubbed his scalp with one hand.

"To be frank, we may not be able to save them."

"Had they been left too long?"

"No, no, that wasn't the problem." The doctor frowned again. "If they'd simply been severed they could be reattached with minimal complications, but – " he paused, searching for an explanation suitable for a lay-person. "They're crush injuries. The severed fingers, and what's left of the phalanges on his hands, are shattered."

Remus swore quietly.

"I didn't actually get a good look at… at the injuries. What's he missing?" They'd stopped in front of a blank door.

"The little, and ring fingers on both hands."

Remus took a deep breath, appalled and sickened: he'd never held with torture even though... Yes, well.

"Thank you, Doctor."

Roberts nodded.

"You're welcome. You can see him for a few minutes while I organise transport."

 

Snape opened his eyes as Remus approached the bed.

"Stubborn bugger." Remus groused. "Why won't you let him give you something for the pain? You can't tell me it doesn't hurt."

"Oh, it hurts." Snape whispered, his voice sounding oddly forced, syllables fading in and out irregularly. "Wanted to talk to you first."

"All right, I'm here. Talk." Remus pulled a chair closer to the bed then sat.

"How did you find me?"

"Malfoy followed you. Got the address then came straight to me."

Snape's lips twitched.

"And people think I only keep him around because I owe his mother a favour."

Remus was intrigued – he'd not heard that before – but kept his silence.

"I want you to know I said _nothing_." Snape was staring at the grotesque lumps of bandaging on the ends of his arms. "So if that was the reason you came after me, then you needn't be concerned."

"It wasn't the main reason – " Remus started to say, realising the truth as it left his mouth, but Snape was continuing.

" _Couldn't_ say anything. Literally. Bastard used one of my own compounds. Paralysed the vocal cords. Couldn't make a sound…"

Remus blanched, all too clearly imagining the horror of screaming and screaming and not being heard.

"I wondered why the neighbours hadn't reported anything."

"The bastards laughed." Snape went on, flatly. "They thought it was funny. Torture with the sound turned off."

The silence stretched. Remus cleared his throat: he didn't really want to ask but he had to know… Dolohov had a reputation as a sexual sadist.

"Did he, they, do anything else? To you?"

Snape gave him a sardonic look.

"Other than rip my fingers off with pliers?" He returned to the contemplation of his bandages, speaking again after another long moment. "Before they started he… branded me." Snape lifted one of his hands to touch a spot on his chest; just above a nipple, Remus calculated. " _That_ I won't stand for. _That's_ coming off at the earliest opportunity." Snape shifted irritably on the bed, sweat suddenly standing out on his forehead. " _Doctor. Now._ "

Remus sprang up, just as Roberts entered the room.

"Ready for some medication, are we?" He jovially enquired of his patient, who glowered.

"Take care, Snape." Remus made for the door. "I'll send you some grapes."

" _Loathe grapes_." Grated out from the bed, then: "Get Malfoy."

"Your wish is my command." Remus replied, not without asperity. Was 'thank you' foreign to the man's vocabulary?

 

 

He heard nothing for a week, ten days. Not a peep; not from Snape, not from Malfoy, or any other of Snape's minions. Understanding that Snape was undoubtedly being prudent by staying out of sight did nothing to alleviate Remus' general pissed-offness with him. What was even more irksome, however, was that he couldn't fathom why he was so put out. Remus eventually concluded that he was simply annoyed with the lack of courtesy – was a simple thank-you too much to ask? - and tried to put it out of his mind.

There were other aspects of their little adventure, though, that were proving to be more satisfactory. Acting on 'information received' the Met had, with unusual rapidity, put Anton Dolohov under observation. The Russian's overweening conceit, and erroneous belief in his own immunity, had led him to be a little careless in his business dealings. Mistakes were made – huge, great steaming piles of mistakes – that had given the Met ample grounds for making an arrest. Whether the charges could be made to stick was a matter for the future but for now Dolohov's proto-empire in the UK was gutted. It was amazing what a word in the right ear could achieve.

Remus had been following the news on the case with interest. In amongst details about Dolohov's, alleged, offences were hints that Mother Russia was making overtures to the British government about extradition. Apparently Anton had been a very naughty boy at home, too. Whatever happened, Remus hoped that while Dolohov was in jail he was being buggered daily with a lead pipe, and twice on Sundays.

 

The intercom on his desk buzzed: Charlie's voice crackled through the small speaker.

"Visitors, boss."

Remus looked up from the scattered papers - there was so much bloody paperwork for _legitimate_ businesses it was a wonder more people weren't crooked - and checked the security monitors.

_Well, well, well_. The prodigal returns – after two fucking months.

Snape, and Malfoy, were waiting in the foyer. While Remus watched, a bored Malfoy thrust his hands into the pockets of his beautifully tailored overcoat and rocked back and forth on his heels. Snape, expressionless, didn't move, except to tilt his head slightly and look directly into the camera. Remus' guts coiled unexpectedly with something like irritation.

He thumbed the button on the box.

"Show them up."

 

They were alone in his office, Snape's blond shadow having been instructed to wait outside with Charlie. Surprisingly, after confirming the order with a questioning glance at his boss, Malfoy had acquiesced without protest.

Remus handed across a generous splash of whisky in a cut-crystal tumbler. He tried not to, but couldn't help watching as Snape grasped the glass with three fingers. The scars from his missing digits looked pink and tight.

"Lucky they left you your thumbs." Remus heard himself say.

"Luck?" Snape settled back in the chair. "They would've got to my thumbs eventually."

Remus repressed a shudder and sipped his own drink.

"Why not start with them, then? Make sure you- someone's crippled, in case of … interruption."

Snape shook his head and ghosted a wry smile.

"You're assuming a certain level of rational thinking. Besides, Dolohov was one of Riddle's best students."

Remus raised an eyebrow, an invitation to explain further.

"Torture is more effective when the victim has something to anticipate that's worse than what's already happened."

Remus set his glass down on the desk with a sharp _thunk_.

"Shit."

"Indeed."

"But…" he frowned. "What was the point of it? You said you couldn't speak; Dolohov couldn't get any information out of you."

"Again, you're assuming rationality." Snape studied the swirl of fluid in his glass. "I can only deduce he wasn't after information at that point. Maybe he had plans to move me, later, to somewhere it wouldn't matter if I… if there was noise."

There was nothing Remus could say in response to that, even if the sudden thought of what _else_ Dolohov could've done to Snape hadn't left him paralysed with horror.

"So, er, how are you?" He nodded towards his visitor's maimed hands. "Any complications?"

Snape shook his head.

"What was left of my fingers had to be amputated – too damaged to repair, apparently – but they've healed well and the physical therapy's giving me back something close to the original dexterity."

"Right." With the conversation now touching on the medical, any normal person would've taken that as their cue to express their gratitude about their fees being taken care of. Remus waited.

Snape continued to sip his drink in silence.

Remus' eyes narrowed. He'd always known this man was an arrogant sod, but really, there was a limit.

"You haven't said 'thank you'."

Snape regarded him with a lazy half-smile.

"For what?"

"Paying your doctor's bills for a start!"

"Oh, that." Snape was dismissive. "You'll get your money back."

Remus growled.

" _And_ rescuing you!"

"You only troubled because you thought yourself threatened." The dark eyes were as hard and cold as stone.

"…That's not true."

"Isn't it? You didn't come after me for friendship's sake!" Snape slammed his glass down on the desk and stood up. "Be honest, Lupin, if you hadn't needed to keep your part in Riddle's betrayal a secret you would've left me to that psychopath without a qualm!" He snatched up his coat, clearly intent on leaving.

Remus flushed hotly with anger, and something else less easily identifiable that jolted his spine and tingled in his pelvis. However, the need to blow off some steam was acute and as anger was more acceptable and easier to explain than the other, that was what he seized upon.

"Don't turn your back on me!"

"Or what?" Snape's taunting sneer turned to rage when he was grabbed by a shoulder and forcibly spun around. "Get your hands off me!"

" _Make me_." Remus snarled.

The scuffle was bitter and undignified, concluding with Snape backed up hard against the desk and pinned by the weight of Remus' body. His head was being forced back, held fast by the blunt fingers twisted in his hair; his hands, captured by the wrists, were jammed against his chest.

" _Hah_." Remus leered in rather childish triumph, then froze as the sensations from his lower body finally made their way to his brain. Pressed as close together as they were he couldn't mistake an erect penis for anything else. "Is _that_ how you're going to thank me?" He smirked, feeling his own arousal surge in approval even as what remained of his common sense chanted _bad idea, bad idea, bad idea!_ No – he snarled back at it – _bloody good idea_. For years he'd put up with Snape's mocking innuendo, let him find out how far Remus could be pushed. He let his hand drop from the stringy black hair to cup Snape's genitals.

"Well?" He demanded.

Snape clamped his jaw shut and glared, but he didn't protest, nor did he deny the insinuation. He remained still as Remus clumsily – with one hand, as the other was still restraining Snape's wrists - unfastened his trousers. Remus was watching his captive's face; he saw the flush stain Snape's angular cheeks, felt the quiver as his free hand gripped the man's prick. Fear or arousal? He didn't much care at this point.

For a heartbeat of time Remus considered backing off, but a glance at Snape's icy eyes - and the challenge implicit there – and once again his common sense beat a flustered retreat. Remus bared his teeth in a nasty parody of a smile: Snape didn't think he had the bottle to go through with this? _Fine_.

He registered the flicker of unease that crossed Snape's face as he sent him sprawling, face down, over the desk. Papers went everywhere as Snape scrabbled for purchase with his mutilated hands. Remus laughed, effortlessly pinning the man by his scrawny neck.

"Don't you want this, _Severus_?" He yanked down fine black linen trousers and practical black cotton underpants. "Just say 'no'." Remus paused, but all he could hear was the short, harsh breaths of the man he was about to fuck –

_Oh, Jesus God, what was he doing?_

He snatched his hands away from the lean body and stumbled back a step.

"Christ, Snape…"

The low, breathless sound of bitter amusement made him frown.

" _Unbelievable_. How a pansy like you made it this far."

"What? Are you fucking with me - ?"

"You're a coward, Lupin." Snape spat. Oddly though he hadn't moved: he was still face down and bare-arsed over the desk. "You 'rescued' me because you're a coward, and you won't finish this because you, are, a, coward."

Remus was frankly bewildered by what he saw as skewed logic. How had it been cowardice to walk in to psycho-enemy territory and haul Snape's skinny carcass out of there? And stopping short of rape made him a coward too…?

"What?" Remus' hadn't felt so wrong-footed since he was a teenager – it was still an unpleasant sensation - but Snape was stubbornly silent, his fingers curled in to fists. "Well?"

Snape continued to say nothing but the fact he hadn't made a move to cover himself, or indeed get away, was eloquent.

"You _want_ me to… to do this?" Remus scowled, not quite ready to believe the conclusions he was reaching. Snape still refused to speak but there was an obvious blush heating his face and neck. Remus glared at him, incredulous.

"You could've just asked, you prick!"

"Oh yes, and you would've agreed without a murmur." The sarcasm was acid enough to etch metal. 

Remus opened his mouth to refute the – what, accusation? slur?- but couldn't seem to think of anything because, dammit, Snape had a point. If Snape had had the temerity to make overtures then he, Remus, would have used that perceived vulnerability against him. Not directly, perhaps, but there would've been sly smirks, unsubtle 'queer' jokes, and always, always the threat of exposure and public ridicule – fatal, in their line of business. And without question Snape would have done the same if Remus had been the one asking for something so much at odds with their _manly men_ personas. 

What had changed? What was Snape admitting with this offer? What was Remus admitting if he accepted?

"Finished thinking, Lupin?" Snape's tone snapped with impatience. He'd propped himself up on his elbows and was glaring back over his shoulder. "Should I just leave and we never mention this again?"

"No…" Remus still wasn't convinced, and the ramifications could be massive - but… "If you're sure about what you want?"

"I'm sure about what _you_ want." Snape retorted with a smirk. "I haven't been misinterpreting all those little looks over the years, have I?"

Remus reached out with his fingertips to swirl a simple pattern over pasty-white – but warm, so warm - skin and came to a decision. Consequences be damned, there was no denying his own reaction to what was being offered and quite frankly it was a relief to finally succumb to temptation.

"No, I don't suppose you have."

"Get on with it then." Snape grunted, dropping his head to his folded forearms.

_'Get on with it'_? Remus quirked an eyebrow, then smirked. Snape's attitude was one of indifference - or at least that was what he was trying to project – and what man, queer or otherwise, could ignore that slight to his prowess? He stepped forward, lightly gripping bony hips and pressed against the cleft of Snape's buttocks.

"You're still dressed? For god's sake, Lupin, we don't have all day!"

No, they didn't: their off-siders outside the office might theoretically wait until given the say-so to come in, but neither Charlie nor Malfoy's patience was infinite, and if they thought something was wrong… Still – Remus reached between them to fondle Snape's balls - there were quickies and there were _quickies_ , and he declined to be rushed in to a poor show.

"I'm not taking you dry." He stepped back, and after a teasing flick of a finger against Snape's anus, strolled around his desk to rifle the drawers. There was lubricant here somewhere…

Snape sighed, loudly.

"Saliva will do."

"No it won't." Remus said, affronted.

Snape rolled his eyes.

"Just hurry up."

"So eager to have my cock up your arse?"

"Hardly." Snape made it sound like nothing of consequence. "I don't want to be late for an appointment."

"An appointment. Right." Remus had found the tube, hauling it out from the beneath a jumble of detritus. He weighed it in his hand and wondered for a moment if he was misremembering how much it'd contained. No matter, there was enough for his immediate needs. 

Standing once more behind Snape he flipped the tails of the man's ivory shirt well out of the way then squeezed a good dollop of the clear, lubricating gel from the tube.

It'd been a while since he'd been so intimately acquainted with a bloke – Remus eased first one, then a second finger past the puckered muscle – but he hadn't forgotten what to do. Just like riding a bike, really...

"… _fuck_ …"

Remus grinned at the unguarded whimper, ridiculously pleased with himself. In all the years he'd known Snape, through all the dire life and death situations, he'd never heard him swear.

"All right there?" He asked, smirking as Snape's retort withered to a strangled groan. Yes, he wasn't playing fair, fiddling with the man's prostate while he was trying to speak but, damn, it was satisfying having the razor-tongued bastard at a verbal disadvantage for once.

Rendering Snape speechless wasn't the only satisfaction to be had here, Remus reminded himself. He withdrew his fingers then, carefully – gah, _zips_ , stupidly fiddly contraptions - liberated his penis from his trousers. Shivering in anticipation he slicked more of the gel over his erection.

"Ready?"

Snape was waiting, stretched over the desk. Remus could hear his breathing, harsh and short, much like his own, and there was only the smallest of gasps as he was breached, easily. Remus stilled; he'd been expecting more resistance.

Any disgruntled thoughts about _who else_ was getting a go at Snape's arse evaporated as the man in question pushed back firmly. Remus instinctively jerked forward to meet the movement and was soon lost in the shove and slide of agreeably hard sex. It _had_ been a long time, he'd forgotten just how much he liked this… 

His climax happened quickly, shooting through him like a shock of snow on bare skin. Gasping for breath and somewhat light-headed, Remus almost collapsed forward, elbows locked, his hands resting either side of Snape's waist. It was a few moments before he could even think of moving, let alone consider the niceties of copulation, namely, making sure his partner was finished.

Snape hadn't made a sound but his chest was heaving and his fingers were white where they clutched at the far edge of the desk. Remus, when he was sure his legs would hold him up, pulled away, groaning as his cock slid free of its delicious confinement. Snape didn't give him a chance to see to his needs, however; as soon as Remus was clear he pushed himself to his feet and hauled up his clothes.

"Bathroom." He ordered, not looking at his host.

"Through there." Remus indicated the door on the other side of his office. His heart sank – unreasonably, what had he been expecting? – as Snape marched off, legs and shoulders stiff with what looked like accusation. 

Christ almighty he was the stupidest, least controlled man on the planet: Snape was going to make him pay for and pay for this lapse in judgement. Remus sighed and fumbled around in his pocket for a hanky, that was when he spotted the semen dribbling down the front of his desk. He pondered this as he efficiently got himself sorted and put away then wiped up the evidence of Snape's enjoyment - but no, he didn't have a clue.

His guest returned, as cool and neat as always, but this time Remus could see his face. Snape didn't look pissed-off so much as… wary? He accepted with a silent nod the whisky Remus offered, then the two men stood there, not quite looking at each other.

"Why?" Remus asked. "Why now?"

Snape shrugged.

"You could think of it as repayment for your help. Or curiosity, perhaps." He was apparently engrossed in studying his drink. "Or maybe Dolohov… rattled me so much…" He shrugged again, irritably, dismissively.

Remus nodded slowly: Snape had been so scared he was willing to offer _himself_ in exchange for reassurance? Protection? _Jesus_ …

"Dolohov can't hurt you." Remus insisted softly. "He's behind bars – "

"And of course has no contact with the outside world, or with anyone he can send on a little _job_ for him." Snape growled. "…What if he gets out?"

Remus heard the fear Snape was trying so hard to deny and surprisingly felt himself empathising. _Men_ were supposed to be tough, _men_ were supposed to be brave. _Men_ , especially hard men like themselves, were not supposed to be afraid. No wonder the poor bastard was a mess.

"I've got your back." Remus said.

"You'll save me from the big, bad Russian, will you?" 

It was designed to be a stinging put-down, and Remus almost snapped something harsh in reply… before it clicked that Snape invariably went on the verbal offensive when he was feeling undermined. Not that that meant there was a heart of gold beneath the gruff exterior – Snape was, and had always been, a distinctly unpleasant man – but, Remus realised, it shed new light on some of their more acerbic interchanges over the years.

"I will, yes." Remus said calmly. He watched, prudently hiding his glee as the Snape visibly deflated. _Hints for dealing with Snape: 1 – be unruffled by the winds of scorn..._

"Why? We're not _friends_."

"Maybe not, but we are professional colleagues." Remus pointed out. "Separately we're weaker. When we look out for each other there's less chance we'll both go under."

Snape half-smirked.

"That idealism's going to get you killed."

"It hasn't so far." Remus replied with a grin. He perched on the edge of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. "So, where do we go from here?"

"What about your wife?"

Remus hid his startlement with difficulty. He hadn't given Dora a thought all this time. He should probably feel guilty about that, married less than a year and he'd already cheated on her – if having an impersonal one-off with a man could actually be considered _cheating_. 

Interesting though that while he'd been considering how this encounter might affect their business relationship, Snape had been considering the personal.

"This has nothing to do with her." Which was perfectly true from both angles, professional and personal.

"A man disregards his wife at his own peril."

Remus snorted.

"You know that from personal experience?"

"I know _that_ from years of observations."

"Well I'm not planning on saying anything to her. Are you?"

Snape smirked.

"I can't foresee that becoming necessary."

But the threat was there… Remus narrowed his eyes, then inclined his head in silent acknowledgment of Snape's sneakiness. The weight of secrets between them now was such that any attempt to gain an advantage would tip them both. Like it or not, he and Snape were firmly bound to each other in a pact of non-disclosure.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Lupin." Snape tossed back the rest of his drink. "But I must be going." 

He stood, leaning forward to place his glass on the desk. The action brought them close together and Remus found his face only inches from Snape's. He could see the man's pupils dilate, barely discernible in the dark, dark irises, and smell the mingled musk and cologne rising from his skin. 

Quite unconsciously Remus smiled: if Snape was a women he would've kissed him. But – Snape stepped back and the moment passed – men were for fucking, not kissing. And he wasn't thinking about it now, Remus told himself firmly, dragging his gaze away from Snape's thin lips.

"Will you join me for lunch sometime?" Snape was saying, his expression bland and bored, but Remus fancied he could see through the indifference now.

He considered the implications. For them to be seen openly in public would cause ripples in their world. A putative alliance would mean a shifting of the power bases. Could get lively…

"Yes, I would. Thank you."

"I'll contact you." Snape nodded, his eyes averted, but there was the faintest hint of a blush. 

Remus was startled – again – but obscurely pleased: was Snape thinking of a personal or professional meeting? He wouldn't be averse to another private and personal conference, somewhere more amenable to a prolonged… meeting.

Remus checked his eagerness – Christ almighty, how far was he thinking of taking this thing with Snape? It was a stupid, stupid idea, quite out of the question –

Impulsively, he reached up to place his fingertips on Snape's chest, over the spot where Dolohov had branded him. Snape twitched, but didn't move away.

"That's gone." He said on a quiet outward breath. "Skin graft."

"Good." 

Remus reluctantly lifted his fingers away: he had the weirdest impulse to see his own mark there. He shook himself mentally. Oh, he was just full of stupid ideas today. Might as well go home to Dora and confess all.

Snape had moved out of range and picked up his coat.

"Here. I bought you a present." He tossed a small, soberly wrapped parcel in Remus' direction.

"A present?" Remus quirked an eyebrow.

"My way of saying 'thank you'." Snape was dead-pan, though his lips twitched in response to Remus' ironic bark of laughter.

"You're welcome." Came the studied response.

Remus unwrapped his gift. Snape had given him another cruet set, a pair of oddly coloured ducks this time, bearing matching legends of 'Lovely weather for ducks in… Bangor' on their flanks.

"Thank you." He grinned, bemused. "Bangor?"

"Where I was recuperating." Snape shrugged in to his coat, straightened the lapels. "I'll see myself out."

 

Alone now, it was very quiet in his office. The door opened and Charlie stuck his head in.

"They've gone. Everything all right, boss?"

Remus nodded.

"Yes, thank you, Charlie, everything's fine." He said, carefully positioning the ceramic ducks on the opposite side of his desk to Dora's photograph…


	2. Like Minds - Revisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There are always consequences._
> 
>  
> 
> A completely unexpected sequel to the original SnuSa fic. (Also written and posted in 2007)

"I dare you..."

Remus flicked the naked man sprawled on the bed a look then ignored him in favour of straightening his tie, shrugging in to his jacket.  
Snape watched in silence for a moment then snorted.

"Have you _ever_ tried…?"

" _Yes_." Remus snapped, a little defensively perhaps. "And it's not my thing, ducky." He finished in a drawling, sarcastic imitation of a queen.

Snape's lip curled.

"Oh, that's right, because _you're_ not a poof." 

He smirked then rolled over on to his stomach, a provocative action as Remus' cock was now stirring once more. 

"Have it your way." 

Remus scowled, wrenching his gaze away from the skinny arse with its evidence of recent use. _Christ, but he hated this man sometimes_. 

"Settling in for a nap, are you? Jolly good, just let Williams know when you leave."

Snape grunted something indistinct and didn't open his eyes. Remus' scowl deepened and he didn't bother saying goodbye as he left, shutting the hotel door with perhaps just a little too much force. 

 

Remus smiled ruefully to himself as he waited for the lift. He really shouldn't let Snape get under his skin like that, he should've _known_ becoming intimate with his rival would afford new opportunities for derision. What the bastard was getting the most mileage out of now was Remus' refusal to suck cock, or take it up the arse. Remus had his reasons – bloody good reasons! – but admitting them was as likely to get him as much ridicule as sympathy. 

The lift _dinged_ and Remus stepped through the faux-wood panelled doors in to the slightly scuffed, but still gleaming space. 

To be honest he wasn't sure how he'd let himself become as vulnerable as he had. True, he hadn't planned for this thing with Snape to go on so long – six months and counting, not that he _was_ counting, mind – but there's a lot of incidental information can be picked up in that length of time. Unintentional information. Little snippets you let slip and don't realise you've revealed until they're thrust back at you on the point of a stiletto wit. 

The lift _dinged_ again, opening out in to the hotel's lobby. 

Remus smoothed his expression to one of genial neutrality before sauntering across the abstractedly patterned carpet. It was about time that was replaced, he thought, making a mental note to speak to Mo. He responded with a smile and a nod to the greeting from the girl behind the reception desk before continuing on through the connecting door that led to the employees' car-park. One of the perks of owning a hotel, aside from always having a room available of course, was never needing to worry about where to put the bloody car.

Remus slid in to the driver's seat but didn't immediately start the engine. It'd just occurred to him that perhaps Snape was being nice, sort of, by letting him know exactly how much he was revealing. It would've been more in keeping, he would've thought, for Snape to hoard all these little spills of personal information, to _not say anything_ and thereby let Remus keep dribbling it out all blithely unaware. 

Mind you, just because Snape was alerting him to this incontinence of confidences didn't mean he wouldn't, at some point, tell someone else what he knew. But would he? Remus may not have picked up anything like the same sort of ammunition from the close-mouthed sod, but it was still considered a greater shame for a man to be the fucked, rather than the fucker. In terms of damaging secrets then, they were still more or less even. The détente would hold…

 

It was a Tuesday morning, just like any other, and Remus was at his desk, immersed in reviewing the intricacies of taxable deductions when the phone rang. Somewhat distracted he answered it automatically, his full attention only snapping in to focus when he heard the heavy accent. 

" _Dobroye utro_ , Remus Lupin."

Shit.

"Hello, Anton." 

Even with his heart suddenly pounding, Remus managed to convey the impression of amused tolerance. Belatedly he thought it might be a good idea to activate the answering machine's recording function. "How are you?" He continued after pressing the appropriate button.

"It was you who took my toy, Mr Lupin. I will have him back, then I will come for your pretty wife, then I will come for you."  
"This is just a social call, then, Anton?" 

The boredom was entirely feigned: Remus was alert and wary, worry warring with outrage. How _dare_ the prick presume to threaten - 

"Have you had him yet? Does he still have my mark?" Dolohov's silky, suggestive words rammed into Remus' consciousness like a nail of ice.  
"What?" No disguising the dangerous tone as anything else.  
"He screams, you know, when you fuck him. It is like music. Poetry." Dolohov sighed theatrically. "And then he cries and bleeds, and you wonder if it is worth it. But then you fuck him again and you know that it is."  
"I don't know what you're talking about, Dolohov."  
"Oh, I think you do." The Russian was smug. "You will not be able to save him this time." 

The line went dead before Remus could muster a retort.

 _Shit_ …!

For a couple of minutes he was immobilised by a debilitating and uncustomary panic, then he took a deep breath and got a grip on himself. 

First things first: Dolohov had to be winding him up, right? Even with minions on the outside ready to do his bidding, _he_ was still banged up and could do sod all but make threats, right?

Remus snarled silently and rummaged for his coded phone book. No, he wasn't going to be able to take that on trust, time to make some enquiries - but not through Harry. He didn't want to alert his young friend to anything his police officer's conscience might prompt him to investigate. Remus flipped through the pages of the innocuous note book: fortunately he had other sources of information within the judiciary…

Five minutes later Remus was seething with anger. What the fuck were they playing at? Since his arrest Dolohov's lawyers had been vocal and persistent in their efforts for their client but the British authorities had remained unmoved. Then the bloody diplomats had got involved and, it seemed, the fucking Russian had been granted bail. Unconditional bail at that, despite the obvious risk of absconding! _Jesus_! 

It'd been done very quietly, too, not a word of it in the press. Someone high up somewhere had been pulling strings… Remus growled around the knot of fear in his throat - Dolohov had already been out for three days, plenty of time for the psycho bastard to cook up his revenge. _Shit_. He called Charlie in to his office, issued orders, then rang his wife.

"Remus, love! You've just caught me, I was on my way out – "  
"Don't go anywhere, Dora."  
"… What?"  
"Pack some clothes. Charlie's on his way to pick you up. I want you to go and stay with your parents for a while."  
"Remus, why?"  
"I can't tell you."

The young Mrs Lupin swore volubly but Remus fancied he could hear her unease, bubbling there under the surface. It was well-founded, Dora wasn't a complete innocent about some of her husband's business dealings and she was, after all, related to the still notorious 'Brighton' Blacks.

"How long will I be gone?"  
"I'm sorry, love, I really couldn't say. Not long, I hope."  
"Fine." Now she just sounded pissed off. "And when I get back you and me are going to have a chat about that baby you promised me!"

For a moment Remus wondered: _what the hell_? Then he recognised the humour – strained, in this case – which was his wife's usual means of defusing tension. 

"I promised no such thing!" He exclaimed in a passable imitation of indignation.  
"Oh, yes you did." Dora fell into the banter almost gratefully. "It was the reason I consented to marry you!"  
"You didn't 'consent', you harridan, you frog-marched me in to the church!" 

This was a long-standing joke between them and Remus was grinning now. He could hear a similar grin in Dora's rejoinder.

"Well I would've gone grey waiting for you to make up your mind!"

They laughed, then there was a pause.

"Remus, will you tell me what's going on, eventually?"  
"If I can, love."  
"All right." She sighed. "Don't get yourself ki… hurt. Promise?"  
"As God is my witness." Remus intoned with a smile.  
"Ah, you Catholics…!"  
"You're one now, too, remember?" His smile quietened, became tender. "Take care, love, I'll be in touch. Oh, and Charlie's got instructions to not let you out of his sight -"  
"Thanks for the warning." She groused.  
"- so try not to kill him with your cooking, yeah?"  
"Prat. Besides, you know Mum won't let me loose in her kitchen."  
"I've always like your mum. Sensible woman." Remus teased.  
" _Prat_." Dora's voice dropped to a purr. "Love you. Don't leave me in the wilds of Kent too long."  
Remus chuckled.  
"Of course not. Love you, too..." 

He grudgingly closed the connection, superstitiously shying away from the sense of finality. 

Remus drummed his fingers on the desk and considered his next move. Getting Dora off to safety had been easy – now came the hard part.

"Snape?"  
"Lupin."  
"I need to speak to you. It's urgent."  
"The usual place?" Snape asked, meaning St Dominic's and thereby communicating his understanding that this was a business matter.  
"Yes. No." Remus thought quickly: he wasn't sure they weren't under surveillance even now. "Ozzies. Out the back."  
"I can be there in an hour and a half."  
"Good. See you then."  
"Unencumbered?" Meaning, without Draco.  
"Yes."  
"Very well." Snape rang off, leaving Remus listening to an electronic silence.

 

Remus waited in the secluded car-park behind the church, car radio on but turned down low. 

Language was a funny, fluid thing. St Dominic's - 'the usual place', in their personal linguistic shorthand - had always been the primary meeting spot with St Oswald's, 'the other place', as the back-up. Recently though 'the other place' had morphed to mean the hotel room and an invitation to sex rather than business, and St Oswald's had become 'Ozzies'. He and Snape had a lot of private jargon, Remus noted to himself with some amusement. 

He watched Snape drive in and pull over, watched as those lean legs unfolded from the car. He let his gaze travel up the man's torso to the long throat and cold, thin face. There was an odd, tight feeling in the pit of Remus' stomach; it was anger he realised, at Dolohov, though it was formless and shifting.

Snape slid in to the passenger seat, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Lupin."  
"I had a phone call today." 

Snape waited, expressionless, while Remus set up the tape. He remained expressionless all throughout the play-back, but his mutilated hands had clenched in to fists on his thighs and there were small spots of colour high on his cheeks.

"I made some enquiries." Remus was blunt. "Dolohov's out."  
"Right." This was muttered through gritted teeth. Snape was only just holding on there, Remus understood with a jolt of apprehension.  
"Should we be worried?"  
"Yes."

Remus exhaled; it was kind of a relief having his fears confirmed. Now he could stop speculating to the point of paralysis and get on with fixing the problem.

"I've sent Dora away for the time being. Charlie's with her…"  
"I am _not_ going to hide." Snape said with quiet vehemence. "I'm sick to death of waiting for that… that man to reappear in my life. Year after bloody year."  
"What Dolohov was implying…" Remus gestured vaguely at the tape player. Christ, this was awkward. Snape didn't look at him.  
"I was low on the totem pole and Riddle had some novel ideas about discipline."  
"How long…?" Remus floundered again but Snape seemed to guess what he was asking.  
"Too long. It stopped when I finally made myself indispensable to the old man and it was in his best interests to have me fully functional."

Remus stared at him, aghast. He'd only had _one_ bad experience but that'd been enough to make him react violently when… How could Snape _bear_ to let himself be touched like that, then? How could he enjoy being fucked?

Snape cleared his throat.

"You see now why I was so… grateful?"

Remus nodded. He wanted to reach out and hold Snape's hand, but couldn't bring himself to do it. According to the unwritten laws, only women needed physical gestures of comfort; to offer that to another man diminished them both.

"That… What you've heard…" It was Snape's turn to flounder and Remus' to intuit his companion's needs.  
"Will go no further." 

He ejected the cassette without hesitation and began unravelling the tape. Yes, he was destroying their only hard evidence but preserving Snape's integrity was more important. Remus handed over the fistful of gleaming ribbon. 

"No one will be able to reconstruct that if it's in ashes."

Snape's fingers closed over the crinkling tangle. He glanced sideways and a small smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

"Thank you."  
"What are we going to do about Dolohov?"  
Snape raised his chin.  
"We strike first."  
"…how?"  
"Leave that to me." His smile was chill and fierce. "He needs to be dealt with, once and for all. Are you in? Or would you rather go and wait with your wife?"  
"I'm in." Remus responded grimly. "He threatened me, too."  
Snape nodded once, short and sharp.  
"I'll be in touch."

He exited the car, shoving the remains of the tape in his pocket as he stalked away. Remus watched him go, swallowing against a dry throat. 'Dealing with Dolohov': he had no illusions about how this was going to end.

Remus carried on as normal, or as normal as it was possible to be when you where hyped up, tense and waiting for action. He'd never liked waiting and now he had a double load. Waiting for Dolohov to make a move; waiting for Snape to contact him. 

Dora hated waiting, too, and after three days of 'exile', as she put it, she was ready to come back. For the first time in their relationship, Remus lost his temper with her.

" _Stay where you are_!" He growled. "For once in your life do as I ask!"

There was a chilly silence then:

"I'm not a child, Remus, don't treat me like one."  
"Then stop behaving like one." He let his exasperation show. "For Christ's sake, Dora, I'm trying to protect you. I _can't_ tell you what's going on. You have to trust me."

A longer silence.

"…I'm just worried, love." Her voice was small. "Not knowing what to expect. My heart's in my mouth every time the news comes on."  
Remus managed a wry chuckle.  
"You're not the only one. Look at it this way: as long as there's nothing in the news then there's nothing wrong." 

That was downright misleading, if not an outright lie, but it served to soothe his wife. 

"All right." She sighed. "I'll try to be the good little woman, waiting at home for her husband's command."

Remus heard the asperity behind her words and grinned. 

"That's my good girl." He said, deliberately unctuous.  
"Don't patronise me, you bastard!" Dora laughed.  
"Don't give me so much opportunity…!"

With the tension between them cleared now they chatted and flirted for a while and Remus was in a much better mood when he put the phone down - and more than half hard. He cast a rueful glance at his crotch and shook his head. Great timing; Dora away and Snape incommunicado. He'd have to see to himself… 

 

Movement. Finally.

Remus let himself relax back in to the passenger seat of the hired car, twisting slightly to observe the driver. It was dark on the coastal roads at midnight: Snape's profile blended seamlessly with the shadows. 

"It sounds like it was easy."  
"Yes." Snape responded dryly. "No surveillance. Minimal police presence. It was almost like they wanted the bastard to escape."  
"Can you blame them? Dolohov's become a hot potato, politically."  
"I imagine the ' _oops, we lost him_ ' embarrassment was deemed easier to endure than the alternatives…"

Snape had picked Remus up from the railway station in Basildon and as they wound their way Eastwards to the Essex marshes, had brought his colleague up to date on 'Operation Comrade Fucker' - as Remus had taken to calling it, in his mind at least. 

Snape had tweaked the strands of his information network, quickly discovering Dolohov's whereabouts. It'd taken longer to formulate a plan, however. Through his watchers, Snape had charted his quarry's movements. They weren't extensive; Dolohov rarely left the house, he and his compatriots preferring to have food and 'entertainment' brought in. In particular the Russian seemed to favour a local curry-house and it was easy enough to intercept and 'spike' a delivery. 

No, he hadn't done that himself, Snape had replied to Remus' incredulous inquiry, and likewise it was his intermediaries that'd quietly broken in to the house and scooped up its unconscious occupants. Dolohov's chums were currently on their way to being dumped in the fens while Dolohov… Well, Remus would soon find out.

"Your hands are still clean, Lupin." Snape murmured, not taking his eyes from the road. "You still have a choice."  
"And you don't?" Remus quirked an eyebrow, then half-smiled. "No. I'm not backing out." 

Snape nodded and they continued on in silence.

They pulled in to a rough and ready structure some distance away from the brightly lit marina they'd passed. 

Remus climbed out of the car and looked around, though there wasn't much to see, just a shack of some sort and a creaking jetty, barely visible by the inadequate illumination thrown from a pair of dim all-weather lights. Oh, and a boat, a small cabin cruiser that'd seen better days. The waning moon was obscured by clouds and Remus could sense rather than see the flat, empty space of the marshland yawning behind them. It was a lonely spot. 

A figure, a man with his hat pulled down firmly around his ears and the collar of his overcoat turned up against the chill, emerged from the boat's cabin and moved steadily down the gangplank. He and Snape exchanged a few words; something passed hands then the man ambled away towards the shed. A moment later there was the coughing snarl of an ill-kept engine being coaxed to life. 

A van, as battered and decrepit as the boat and its mooring pulled out and drove away. 

Snape tossed a bunch of keys to Remus and jerked his head towards the shed, by which action Remus deduced he was supposed to put their car under cover.

Snape ghosted Remus a small smile as the latter joined him again on the rickety boards of the jetty. 

"Come on." He said, hopping onto the deck of the boat with enviable grace. He watched Remus cautiously finding foot and handholds to lever himself across from the gangplank. "Are you going to be all right?"  
"I've never really been one for messing about on the water." Remus waved off Snape's amusement. "I'll be fine."

Snape's teeth flashed briefly as he smirked. 

"If you're going to be sick, do it over the side."  
"I'll be _fine_."  
"Hold on, or sit down." Snape was at the wheel now, doing indecipherable things with levers. "Water's a bit choppy tonight…"

They headed out to the open sea, the lights of the foreshore dwindling to winking pinpricks, receding but reassuringly never quite disappearing. 

Remus was uncomfortably aware he had no idea how far they'd come. It was unnerving, not having any landmarks to ground his perception of place. He shivered inside his coat: plus it was bloody cold out here.

"Do you know where you're going?" he asked Snape, who spared him a look then tapped the boat's control panel.  
"I know what I'm doing."

And with that terse reply Remus had to be satisfied because it was clear that his companion was in no mood to talk. Indeed, the further they moved from the land the more tense Snape became. Remus could see it in the angle of his jaw, the way his shoulders hunched. What the hell was going on?

Snape abruptly cut the boat's engine and Remus found himself even more unnerved by the sudden silence. 

"This'll do." Snape muttered.  
"For what?" Remus demanded, striving to keep his voice mild. "Aren't you supposed to drop the anchor or something…?" He called after Snape, who'd disappeared below decks.  
"We won't be here that long."  
"Right then." Remus huffed, scowling out towards the invisible horizon. 

He was chilled and the water slapping against the boat's sides accentuated the rocking motion making him feel a bit... He swallowed, wondering if a hot drink, _any_ drink, was out of the question – 

Remus' eyes went wide as Snape re-emerged from the bowels of the boat, dragging a bound and gagged Dolohov with him. The Russian looked unsteady on his feet but his expression was alert and malevolent. Snape produced a knife and sliced through the electrical tape binding the man's wrists together.

"Awake now, are you, Anton? Good."

Dolohov stumbled back from him, clawing the gag away from his mouth as he did so. He snarled something in Russian – obviously nothing complimentary – then spat at Snape's feet.

"Am I supposed to be scared, Severus?"  
"You're not sane enou- "  
"Or have you brought me here to relive old times?" Dolohov abruptly changed tack, leering. "Good times, yes? I know you liked what I did, and here is the proof." He looked at Remus, with a knowing, amused expression. "He brings me somewhere private for a… tryst. Don't you agree?" Dolohov turned back to Snape, his leer widening into something altogether more disturbing. "If I'd known how much you missed my touch, _zaychik moy_ , I would have renewed our acquaintance much earlier." 

"Shut up." Snape croaked but Dolohov disregarded him, talking over him, continuing on in an almost jovial manner, yet… Remus thought he could detect an edge of desperation in the Russian. 

Dolohov was uneasy, but – Remus looked at Snape – his captor was so wound up he didn't seem to be aware of it. 

"And why are you here, Mr Lupin?" Dolohov focused on him with an intensity that was intrusive. "Is it to share him with me? In the past Severus could take two men at once – I'm sure he still could."  
" _Shut up_!" 

Dolohov continued to focus on Remus, ignoring Snape and smirking like he thought he was winning.

"Come, Remus." He took a step forward, a hand outstretched. "We will share him, and we will be friends."  
"Just fucking _shut up_!" 

Suddenly there was a pistol in Snape's hand, the silencer making it look bulky and unbalanced. The Russian glanced back, noted the firearm trained on him, but before he could speak, let alone register a change of expression, there was a flash of muzzle flare and a muffled report. 

The Russian stumbled back, hands going to his throat as his mouth gaped wide in horrified realisation. Remus stayed very still, watching Snape watch Dolohov drop heavily to his knees then fall sideways. Silently, and still clutching his throat the Russian rolled over on to his back, the black pool of his blood spreading rapidly beneath his body.

"On and on and on." Snape said with deceptive softness. "You just never shut up…" 

He lifted the pistol again, squeezing off two controlled shots straight into Dolohov's head. The Russian jerked with each impact then was still, his hands falling limply away from his throat. Snape stared at the corpse as the blood continued to spread.

"Lupin." He cleared his throat, tried again. "Lupin, have you ever killed any one?"  
"No." Remus said quietly. "Though I've witnessed my fair share."  
"It's supposed to get easier." Snape sounded distant. He was trembling, Remus could see, his chest heaving.  
"Snape." He took a careful, cautious step towards him. "It's done. Give me the gun. I'll sort out the rest." 

Black, blank eyes stared at him.

"Christ, I hated him so much." Snape whispered. "He had me so scared…like a child…"  
"He's gone. It's over." Remus took another step forwards, continuing on in the same quiet, even tone. "Give me the gun." 

Snape blinked slowly – he looked exhausted - then nodded and presented the pistol, butt first. Remus carefully wiped it down with a hankie before dropping it over the side of the boat in to the water. Pity, it was a nice piece but far too dangerous to keep. 

He quickly searched Dolohov's body - a bit tricky while trying to avoid the blood - and found a wallet containing a good wad of cash and some cards. The cash he kept, the rest he threw as far as possible over the other side of the boat. Right, now for the messy bit…

Remus hadn't noticed when he first came on board, but tucked away in a corner of the deck was an old engine block – far too small to be a car's – and a length of metal chain. Seeing this evidence of premeditation gave him a peculiar kick in the adrenals, though of course he'd known when Snape said they needed to 'deal with Dolohov' it wasn't going to involve giving the cunt a stern talking-to. 

With effort he lugged the engine out to the body but couldn't quite manage to get it up on to the boat's side.

"Snape. You're going to have to help me here." Remus said, matter-of-factly, though he was all too aware of time passing. 

Snape was silent, and moved like a zombie, but he did as requested and between them they man-handled the awkward lump of metal into place. 

"Thanks." Remus said. "I can take it from here." 

Ignoring as best he could the ruin of the Russian's face and neck, Remus heaved the body up to dangle, head first, out of the boat. The rest was easy; loop the chain through a gap in the engine then around Dolohov. A decent shove pushed the engine over the side, where it sank like the proverbial, taking the corpse with it. Remus nodded in satisfaction: done – except for the mess. He sighed and looked again at Snape.

"Bucket…?"

 

It was nearing 3 a.m. by the time Remus was satisfied he'd done as thorough a job as he could with only a bucket and a bottle of bleach under thin moonlight. Thankfully Snape had used low calibre rounds that'd remained in Dolohov's skull, not exiting to scuff up the deck. The bullet that had torn through the soft neck tissue had disappeared into the water, and Remus had found the three cartridge casings and chucked them over the side along with all the other evidence. 

He was sweating and his back ached - sluicing down the deck had been hard work – and unfortunately it looked like he'd ruined his shoes. Oh well, he'd have got off lightly if that was the worst consequence he could expect. 

Snape had sat silent and isolated while he worked. 

"We should be getting back." Remus approached him now. "Your mate will probably need to give the deck a once over when it's light."  
"He knows what to do." Snape murmured, turning to the boat's controls. Remus was unaccountably glad to hear the motor start at the first go: being stuck adrift out here just didn't bear thinking about.  
"I could really do with a cup of tea." He mused wistfully, pleased to hear a snort of amusement from Snape.  
"Would you like your slippers, too?"  
"That'd be lovely, thanks."

Snape made a sound closer to a chuckle than not then turned the boat towards the shore.

They'd been quiet on the return journey, Remus standing at Snape's shoulder, peering out through the grimy glass of the cabin. It didn't seem to take as long getting back as it had going out. 

"If it's any consolation," Remus said quietly as the paltry lights of the jetty came into focus. "I think you killed him too quickly."

Snape stared straight ahead, lips compressed.

"I had to do it before my nerve failed. Again."

Remus quirked an eyebrow, inviting further explanation.

"I tried to kill him once before." Snape said. "He wormed his way out of it then. And this time, when he started talking to you…" He shook his head. "I had to stop him, quickly, before…"  
"Before, what? Before he talked me 'round to his point of view?" Remus snorted. "Wouldn't have worked; I don't like sharing."

What looked like a very small smirk appeared briefly on Snape's face. 

"There's a half-way decent hotel a little way outside Tollesbury." He said. "I recommend we rest there then go back tomorrow."  
"A shower and a cup of tea." Remus groaned in blissful anticipation, then laughed, pulling Dolohov's cash out of his pocket. "It's already paid for."  
"Given your reservations about sharing… Do we need two rooms?"  
"Well." Remus said, pretending to seriousness for a moment. "Thrift is a virtue, so I've been told."

Snape gave him a look that made Remus' stomach lurch pleasantly and his cock begin to stir.

"Just the one room then. In the interests of economy..."

Snape stayed in the car while Remus went to see about their accommodation. He spoke to a disinterested night receptionist who barely glanced at him and didn't blink at the lack of photo ID. Perhaps the establishment was used to less than upright citizens making use of its facilities…

The second storey room was very basic, but it had a bed, a shower and a kettle and that was all that was really needed. Remus'd made a beeline for the miniscule bathroom, throwing the suggestion of 'tea' over his shoulder as he stripped. Snape had ignored the request but as he was now on his knees – still fully dressed except for his coat - with his mouth around Remus' tackle, Remus wasn't too put out. 

"Christ, you're good at this…" He breathed, resting one hand lightly on the top of Snape's head. Not guiding, not encouraging, just… being there. 

He spread his thighs, making room for long fingers to stroke and tease his balls. _Oh yes_ … 

He was so relaxed, so caught up in the moment, he didn't immediately notice the slight push against his anus. He tensed, glowering, buttocks instinctively clenching against the intrusion. The growl died in his throat, though, when he caught Snape's expression, or rather, the lack of it. 

They'd had this 'discussion' previously and Snape had been openly mocking of Remus' reactions, now however the neutrality was so obvious it had to be masking something significant. 

"Snape…"  
The man dropped his gaze.  
"It's not important."

 _The hell it wasn't_. 

Remus swallowed; this was not something he wanted but… If it was something Snape needed…? 

Memories were powerful things, as Remus had cause to know, and Snape had just blasted away a recurring threat, a nightmare that had haunted him for years. Doing so had undoubtedly stirred all sorts of horrors - let alone what he'd been through when Dolohov had him prisoner! 

A shrink would probably say that Snape's pushing for sexual control right after drawing a line under his own abusive past was his way of dealing with the trauma. The psycho-babble would include words like 'empowerment' and 'healing'. That was bollocks. Remus knew that this was about him and Snape – that it was about trust. They guarded each other's secrets - for fuck's sake he'd watched him shoot someone in the head just hours ago - but did he _trust_ him? 

It was fucked up, but letting Snape have his arse would prove he did. And would it be that bad, really? This was just Snape, one man, not a gang of drunken – 

Remus shook off his own darkness and forced a lop-sided smirk on to his face.

"… Bet you're crap at it." 

Remus wished he hadn't sounded so tentative, then immediately wondered if he'd been too ambiguous with his consent. He had just consented, hadn't he? _Oh Christ_. 

A black eyebrow quirked expressively.

"You assume that, because I associate mainly with macho bastards who believe that being penetrated turns them in to women, I've never topped?" 

Remus flushed – well, that's what he _had_ assumed. Wait…

"You've topped? Who?"  
"None of your business, Lupin." Snape contrived to look both secretive and smug. "But rest assured I've had no complaints."

Remus honestly didn't know how to react. He _shouldn't_ feel possessive, but dammit…

"Malfoy." He guessed, eyes narrowing.  
"Leave it." Snape ordered, then promptly set about short-circuiting Remus' deductive reasoning by deep-throating him.  
"I thought… I thought you wanted to fuck me." Remus gasped, almost bending double.  
"Later." Snape had let him slide slowly out of his mouth.  
"Uh, okay." He reached blindly, gripping hanks of lank black hair. " _Fuck_." 

Remus felt rather than heard his companion's chuckle, the vibrations shivering along his nerves. 

There were no distractions this time - Snape kept his fingers away from the proscribed places – and Remus quickly succumbed to the rise of mindless pleasure. He wasn't sure, but he suspected he whimpered as he climaxed deep in Snape's mouth. In other circumstances Remus might have been embarrassed to hear himself but at this early hour after a long and harrowing day…? He really didn't give a shit.

Breathing heavily, his head _thunking_ back against the cubicle wall, Remus hazily considered that Snape would be able to fuck him without resistance: he was probably going to fall asleep…

"My turn." Snape's voice close to his ear made Remus jump. When had the bastard moved? "Come on, before you doze off."  
"One thing." Remus' shivered, his throat suddenly dry. "Face to face, all right?"

Snape considered him impassively for a moment, then nodded. He stood aside and gestured towards the bed. 

"After you."

Remus stretched out on his back; soft, soft bed. Nice…

There was a disgruntled sort of sniff from his companion.

"I'd rather you were awake, Lupin."  
"Oh, sorry." Remus forced his eyes open. "Let's – "  
"Get this over with?" Snape suggested acidly.  
"No!" _Yes_. Remus frowned, though more at himself than Snape. "What?" He bridled at the accusatory glare being levelled at him. "I'm tired."  
"Fine. Forget it." Snape snatched up his coat. "I'll get another room."  
"No, wait." Remus struggled to sit up, alarmed at the threatened walk-out for reasons he couldn't begin to decipher at the moment. "Look, I'm tired, we're both tired. Come to bed, have a kip. You can fuck me later, all right?"  
"Sure you won't lose your nerve?" Snape sneered.  
"Well, if I do you'll just have to resort to force." 

Remus said it lightly but his heart thumped at the predatory look his comment engendered. Oddly though, it wasn't fear he was feeling. Or perhaps not oddly at all: when he and Snape fucked it often got a bit rough. 

"Oh, so now you're awake." Snape was smirking at Remus' suddenly half-hard cock. "All it took was the threat of violence." He shook his head in mock concern. "You're a pervert, Lupin."  
"I thought we established that months ago." Flush with renewed energy, Remus was smirking as well. "So, are you going to fuck me, or what?"

Snape's only reply was a widening smirk that edged toward evil. Remus refused to quail, returning the look with one that – he hoped – was bold and challenging. 

Not breaking eye contact, Snape got undressed - and Remus found his resolve wavering slightly. Snape's cock had always felt like a good solid weight in his hand but he'd never really considered the man's _size_ before. 

Snape must've read his trepidation.

"Don't worry, you'll manage - " he flourished a tube of lubricant. " – by the time I'm done." 

Remus knew his smile was a bit sickly, and his guts were tense and clenching, but he feigned nonchalance as he flopped back down on the bed.

"Do your damndest."

Regarding preparation, he'd half expected Snape to do as he did – shove gel-coated fingers in and wiggle 'em about until the subject was writhing – what he hadn't anticipated was the care taken. Not just a slow and easy penetration, digit by digit, but the distracting licks and nuzzles to his cock. 

He wasn't likely to come again soon – he wasn't seventeen any more – but that didn't detract from the unexpected enjoyment of having Snape's fingers in his arse. 

"All right?" Snape was sounding strained and he didn't wait for an answer before bending Remus' legs up. "This'll be easier with you on your front." He warned. 

Remus shook his head; face down he would be unacceptably vulnerable, unable to see and react if there was… a problem.

"Tell me to stop and I will." 

The burning intensity of Snape's gaze belied his soft words and Remus shook his head again: forcing a man to a halt when he was on the point of sticking it in was a bastard trick. That'd been done to him and he wouldn't do it to Snape – not unless he was feeling particularly vindictive. 

Remus smirked, grabbing his knees and pulling them down to his chest, as Snape'd done on many occasions. 

"Come on then, you prick, make me scream." 

_Oops_. Not the best choice of words perhaps, given the sort of things Dolohov had said, but to Remus' vague relief it seemed that Snape hadn't made the connection. Or if he had it certainly hadn't put him off his stride. He was kneeling up, flushed, lips pressed together as he concentrated on lining up his cock with its target. And then he was bracing himself with a hand on Remus' thigh as he pressed forward… 

Remus clamped his teeth together, biting back a yelp. _Jesus, this fucking hurt_!

"Relax, you idiot." Snape ground out. "Push down against me."

It helped, a little, but what really had to potential to divert Remus from the discomfort was the indescribable look on Snape's face. Pleasure, yes, but… Christ, did _he_ look like that when _his_ cock was buried in someone? 

"All right, there, Snape?" It probably didn't matter that he sounded a little breathless.  
"Passing fair, Lupin. Yourself?" 

You had to hand it to the man, maintaining his aplomb despite the obvious strain. Or was that sarcasm? Remus couldn't be buggered – pardon the pun - trying to tell the difference. He twitched, penis jumping as Snape fondled him. 

"Are you going to move any time soon?" Remus grumbled. "I know this is close to a religious experience for you – " 

With an evil smirk Snape pulled back a little then snapped his hips forward again, forcing an undignified grunt from his companion. 

The glare Remus was all prepared to bestow didn't eventuate as Snape set up a hard, if not actually brutal rhythm. Remus gritted his teeth, feeling the sweat start over his body as he was pounded relentlessly. 

It was uncomfortable, but not unbearable, with the occasional spark of pleasure a welcome distraction from the sensation of _wrongness_ in his arse. If he hadn't already had a blinding orgasm Remus thought he could sort of, almost, kind of see the attraction. 

Snape never made any noise during sex, and now wasn't the exception. 

Remus watched as Snape climaxed – head back, mouth open – with no more of an indication than the acceleration of his breathing. If anything he was even more restrained, something that might've caused Remus some concern if Snape hadn't then surprised him by collapsing forward to lie between his suddenly, forcefully spread legs. 

"… _fuck…Remus_ …"

The words trembled against his neck, so quietly he could've easily convinced himself he was hearing things. He wasn't though and the vulnerability revealed by that whisper made his throat ache. 

Remus hesitantly wrapped his arms around the other man's shoulders then allowed himself the briefest of nuzzles. It was obviously a delicate moment which he was oddly loathe to end, but his hips were feeling the strain. Cramping was imminent. Remus fidgeted unsubtly and Snape stirred, lifting his head to smirk down at him.

"That didn't kill you, did it?" 

Remus bared his teeth.

"Move. Please."

Snape eased out then rolled to the side.

"A few hour's sleep… " he gave a cracking yawn. "Then we can leave…"

Too weary to move now, Remus fell asleep wondering if he shouldn't clean up a bit first… and maybe make the effort to get under the bed clothes…

Remus was profoundly glad he'd been the first to wake; it avoided the potential embarrassment of trying to explain to Snape why he was _cuddling_ him. Not just snuggling, which might have been barely acceptable given the chill in the room, but wrapping-yourself-around-your-bedmate _cuddling_. 

Finding himself with an armful of Snape had woken Remus up quick smart. He'd bolted out of bed, grabbed his clothes and made straight for the shower, attention firmly focused on getting clean. By the time he'd thoroughly scrubbed himself down with the sliver of soap thoughtfully provided by the Hotel's management, he'd managed to mentally relegate the fiery ache in his arse to a mere inconvenience, and as for the cuddling… Well, he wasn't thinking about that at all. 

Snape was awake and sitting naked and relaxed on the edge of the bed when Remus emerged from the bathroom. 

"Morning, Lupin." He stood, giving him a dignified nod as he strolled past for his own ablutions. 

Remus nodded in return while pointedly keeping his eyes above waist level. The heavy sway of Snape's cock was oddly mesmerising.

"Shall we bother with tea?" Remus called after him.  
"No, let's just get away from here." The sound of the shower slightly muffled his reply. "We can pick something up on the way."  
"Fair enough." 

Remus was ready to leave by the time Snape had finished in the bathroom. He almost wished he'd insisted on that cup of tea: he could've done with something else to focus on rather than Snape and his fastidious layering of clothes, like a leisurely sort of reverse-strip…

It was gone 10 a.m. before they finally left the hotel. After a brief consultation as to plans – Snape would drop Remus off somewhere he could catch a train home to Southend – they journeyed in silence. It wasn't a difficult silence, as Remus half expected, but neither was it entirely easy. There was a lot more between them now; more secrets, more… something. What he needed was a couple of stiff drinks and a good sleep before he could try and sort it out in his head.

Remus watched Snape drive off, waiting 'til the car had been absorbed by the traffic before strolling off to the ticket office. It disturbed him more than he cared to admit that he was less concerned about being fucked by Snape than he was by sleeping with him. Another line had been irrevocably crossed: how many more until he no longer recognised himself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, no, this was supposed to be a 2nd part, not a chapter! Dammit, I feel I'll never get the hang of this. [grump] eh well...


End file.
